


Size Matters (FFoZ S1E15)

by J_Shute



Series: The Fantastic Foxes of Zootopia [18]
Category: The Great Mouse Detective (1986), Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Backstory, Blackmail, Denial, Interrogation, Lots of it, M/M, Mischief, Self-Doubt, proving a point, standing up for your mate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22555897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Shute/pseuds/J_Shute
Summary: Pressing on with their case, Basil and Dave Dawson come to the conclusion that a certain old enemy of theirs is behind the recent goings on. Bogo though is less convinced, especially given that this is the first time he's heard of this super villain of smaller stature. With the chief skeptical of the damage he could do, the detectives may have to resort to unconventional methods to convince him. Highly unconventional methods.
Relationships: Basil of Baker Street/David Dawson
Series: The Fantastic Foxes of Zootopia [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1086153
Comments: 14
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**FFoZ S1E15**

**Size Matters.**

.

**AN: Welcome back. I’m very happy that so many of you enjoyed Skye’s Fall, interested that none of you (seemed) to have picked up on a monstrous twist revealed in it, and I hope you enjoy this too. The Fox family baby shower is coming up soon, but first is a double shot featuring Basil and Dave. Many thanks to Dancou-Maryuu, my ever thorough proof reader.**

**I'm also excited to say that, overall, season 1 has past the 200K mark. W00T!**

**.**

“Alright mates, ‘G’day’s’ aside, I’m pretty sure that ya-don’t like me and I’m very sure that I don’t like you, but I may or may not have the one thing you want more than anything else in the world. That means we can come together for a little trade talk. You see, I like to think of myself as an opportunist. Heck, if it weren’t for me being kidnapped and press-ganged by that cult back there, that could have been why I would hang around that old bunch; I wouldn’t be there for the cause and the wacky politics, I’d be there to scam a bunch of moolah from the dipsticks. Heck, I was able to…”

“-I would advise you exercise your right to remain silent!” a rather worried lawyer barked out to his client.

Sitting on his metal chair, the orange jumpsuit-clad kangaroo snorted and gave him a look that wouldn’t look out of place on a grumpy teenager. Slouching back down a little, he pulled his arms up to cross them, only to flinch as the cuffs attaching them to the table pulled tight. “Dammit,” he hissed, his Outback accent really flaring up. “Could you maybe get some longer chains or somethin’? This is a major crimp in my style, you know?”

Standing across from him, a cheetah in blue narrowed her eyes, her tail swishing and flicking hard behind her, almost like a whip winding up ready to crack. She looked down to her side of the table and spoke. “Could we get this loudmouth some shorter chains?” She gave a brief glance up at him, before looking down at her superior. “Or a muzzle?”

Below her sat Detective Basil Dawson, the mouse confused as he looked up at her. “Why, he doesn’t seem like a biter?”

Catano blinked a few times, before sighing. “It wasn’t for biting, it…”

“-Ah, so maybe it was in case he spat,” Basil mused on, rapping his finger against his muzzle.

“I was…”

“-Indeed, I’ve seen muzzles used on plenty of llamas and alpacas who’ve made use of that nasty habit…”

“Detective, I…”

“But why you’d suggest it when he hasn’t…”

“-Please stop.”

The mouse did just that, looking up at Catano before his eyes widened. “Ah, you were making an intimidating threat as you didn’t like him. That makes sense now!”

Both were cut off though by the chuckling of their prisoner, who looked at them as he lay back on his chair, one leg crossing over the other. “Please, don’t stop for me.”

Basil paused, before looking up. “I think you’ll find that we will. We want a chat with you.”

“You know,” he began slowly, “if you did, you didn’t need to keep me waiting for so long.” There was a pause as he gave a long yawn. “You know, I said I could help out with your little case on my first day here… and my second… and my third…”

“Given how we busted your terrorist cult,” Catano began harshly, “we’ve been rather busy. Besides, I’m rather inclined to make mammals like you wait.”

“Oh, so you’re happy letting the remaining bad boys go about doing their bad boy stuff for longer, just so you can make some little victim of the machine wait a little. If that’s your game, be my guest. They’ll probably enjoy it, especially the extra time they have for horticulture. I heard purple flowers are back in fashion, though you wouldn’t want to hear about that, would you?”

“We rather would,” Basil cut in. “You said you could help us with furthering this case, and we want to hear how.”

“Oh, it’s very simple,” he replied. “As I said before, I had no real philosophical attachment to those guys. Heck, it was my bad luck I was caught there on that day. -Kidnapped victim, remember…”

“Yeah,” Catano huffed. “Right.”

“Tchhh, they pull you out of your cell, give you a stick and ask you to fight, and now nobody believes you! I’m just glad you weren’t alive to welcome back the Jonestown survivors, or any ones from that other crazy commune that went the same way in Bunnyburrow. Sadly, none of them take too well to desertion, otherwise I’d make like chocolate fondue.” He smiled at them, waving his paws around in the limited way that he could. “If I weren’t a victim, as I was saying, I’d be there to benefit off of them and their ways; in ways that may or may not have been legal but, if they weren’t, I cannot say as that apparently it harms my legality. Heck knows why? I’d be a guy hurting terrorists!”

“Well,” Basil huffed. “Regardless of who whether your blatant cover story is a lie or not, theft against any mammal is still a crime, and, secondly, you will not use a modified Glomar response on me!”

“I’m guessing I just did that,” he gloated slyly. “So, screw you, Mr Victim-blamer. Now, back to the interesting story. Hypothetically speaking, let’s say I wasn’t a poor innocent roo that got kidnapped by the death cult and forced to fight at the last minute, ending up brutalised by the attacking police and held here under what, I think we can all agree, is a very sad miscarriage of justice. Let’s say instead that I met them, decided that they were a little crazy, but decided that them being crazy meant plenty of chances to enrich myself off of them. Now, as you can see…”

The kangaroo prisoner paused a little before smirking. “Forgive me if I forget to clarify that this is all a what-if scenario moving forward,” he said. “Tired, kept here for a long time in stressful conditions, I can be prone to slight verbal omissions, isn’t that right Mr Lawyer?”

He nodded, before the prisoner carried on.

“I’m a very smart individual, and a very smart individual can recognise a high-risk operation when he sees one. Now, when faced with a high-risk operation, many smart mammals employ a little insurance, so I chose to go about getting some. I figured that, or rather would figure that, I need some beef on these guys. As a result, I may or may not of followed the various drops that they did, redistributing the night howler bulbs and refined pellets or whatever.”

Basil nodded. “Right then. So, you know where Kazar’s mammals were taking their foul produce. Now, if you give us this information, we can negotiate a reduced sentence…”

“-I think you mean a _fully_ reduced sentence,” he clarified.

Catano’s hackles raised up at the suggestion. “You really have the gall to demand that?!”

“Well,” he smirked back. “The way I see it, I’m a victim of circumstance.”

“Listen here,” she scolded. “Detective Dawson may have been a bit too polite to call you out on your fictious little sob story, but I know the truth and I’m not afraid of calling it out. So, drop the act, and get ready for a slightly less very long stay behind bars!”

“You’re really sure I’m a bad boy?” he mocked.

This time, Basil replied. “Don’t let my formerly nice cop act deceive you, the chances of you deceiving us were quite simply a billion to one. We certainly know that you were involved in them, and you will pay the price for it!”

The kangaroo paused, before shrugging. “If you can prove your little story over mine in a court of law,” he said, a little grin growing on his muzzle. “After all, I didn’t confess to anything here, did I? Tell me, what overwhelming evidence is there that proves your truth over my truth.”

Basil opened his mouth to speak, only to freeze, silent. Catano took over. “You really think a jury would be so gullible, you practically have ‘GUILTY’ written on your forehead.”

“So, I’ll ask for a judge to try my case,” he said, smiling a little. “Or, if hypothetically I was involved and may be able to provide information, then I’d merely ask for the same level of freedom if I handed it over. I think that that’s a win for everyone. You see, I’m quite a reasonable mammal when you get to know me.”

Catano scowled. “We’ll find evidence to prove your guilt,” she warned. “Then, whether you go in front of a jury or not, you’ll be spending a few dozen years in an even uglier uniform than that one. All you’ll be able to do is take a few years off of that, if you talk to us next time.”

“Next time?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I think you can wait a bit longer, we’re done here. Isn’t that right?” she asked, looking down to her side.

Basil paused a few seconds, before nodding. “Yes,” he added, staring back at the kangaroo. “We’ll meet again.”

He nodded and then smiled. “Yeah, sure. Maybe after the next round of savages hit our city.”

…

“Tell me,” he said, smirking at Basil. The mouse paused, looking back at him. “How long until you send me to trial, how long until all this is sorted. How long for those mammals to make their new batch, and the batch after that, and the batch after that, and the batch after that…”

…

“Or, we could settle it today, and I can be on my way.”

.

.

Two hours later the interview room door finally opened, an angry cheetah walking out. The mouse on her shoulder spent half the time trying to hold onto her, the other half trying to calm her down. “Listen! I know it’s not quite what you had in mind, and I know you take justice seriously…”

“He’s going free,” she muttered.

“He’s getting a very long suspended sentence.”

“He’s going free…”

“With some quite severe requirements. It’s practically house arrest for the next decade…”

“Is he going to jail?” she asked rhetorically, her voice harsh as she stared down at Basil.

“I… -Well, certainly, if he messes any of those rules up, he will be.”

“So, no then,” she snapped, harshly. “A member of a howler stealing, police attacking, anarchist murder cult… And Zootopian justice lets him walk.”

“If… If it makes you feel better, he was actively scamming them from the inside,” Basil offered weakly.

“It doesn’t,” she groaned, as she returned to his office. Dave Dawson was already there, working on his computer as Catano put down the other mouse with a distinct lack of feline grace. She stepped back a bit, before pinching the bridge of her nose and letting out a calming breath. “Those mammals prey on the weak, they helped put this city through hell, helped put me and my family through hell again and what do we get to do back to them? We just set them free…”

“We set him free,” Basil said, breathing in. He stood up, finding his voice, and spoke out. “One out of a hundred goes free, Catano. One out of a hundred, and maybe we do sacrifice a bit of justice, but we do it for an even greater cause. The truth! The truth as to who’s behind this, who this mysterious benefactor is and, thanks to sacrificing a bit of justice, we found another vital link in the chain!”

Catano looked at them, suddenly looking too tired to argue. “Yep,” she shrugged. “We found that Kazar’s boys dropped little baggies off in certain locations, in the middle of a jam cam desert, which mammals from a different organisation then picked up, moving them to a different drop location, where another mammal would pick them up… A mammal who our guy then lost on the metro. All we got from that was a set of non-descript photographs. -If you can follow that chain, then fair enough.” She paused, before shrugging. “Still, I suppose it’s something, given that the ‘Petey’ search only found us a mad Honey Badger. Anyway… good luck, I guess.” And, with that, she dismissed herself and left.

Basil was left alone, holding himself tall and resolute, not that it was lasting long. He slumped down a bit, disappointment filling him, though it was allayed a bit as a set of paws touched his shoulder. “There, there,” Dave said, as he guided his husband back to a waiting seat. “She’d just a bit emotional, that’s all…” Basil’s tail touched down, as Dave came in and gave him a little peck on the cheek.

…

“Oh my, that isn’t working. This must be a most serious one then. Righty-oh!” and, with that, the larger mouse pulled the thinner one into a tight bear hug.

“HHHYYYUUUCCCKKKKK…. KAAAAA….. KHAAAAA…. KAAANNN’TTT BREEEAAAA….”

Dave let him go and brushed himself down, watching as Basil took a few pants in. “Feeling better?”

“I’m feeling… quite distracted… from the matter at paw…” he said, before flopping down again. “So, thanks, I guess.”

“Oh, it’s always a pleasure,” Basil dismissed, cosying up next to him. “Now, let’s see the fruits of our labour.” He turned over to his miniature screen and typed in, loading up the pictures that had been forwarded to them. His computer monitor was a repurposed smart phone touch screen, big enough for him to lie on if he wanted, so he used his paws to easily skim through it all.

The snapshots showed a whole mix of mammals: pred and prey, young and old, fat and thin and everything in-between. “Hmmm,” Dave said, as he looked through. “Could that be a missing member of Dawn’s cabal?”

“Or it could just be an ordinary sheep,” Basil noted. “I can’t make out any facial features, or anything else with those baggy clothes.”

“Sadly, neither can I. Though it is a smaller sheep, white and no horns, just like her,” Dave noted, before cycling on. Another mammal, brown furred and species unclear, pictured far off and looking back at them suspiciously, not that they could get a good facial recognition on him. It didn’t help that he was surrounded by brown bricked buildings, the unfocussed camera almost merging him in.

The next one was obviously taken when said mammal had taken off, the kangaroo hopping after him. As a result, they only got a brown wiry tail and a foot paw.

“I say, our marsupial friend was not the best photographer,” Dave muttered, as he cycled on and paused. “Why, you poor kit.”

Basil nodded, looking on and spotting a very wiry looking wolf cub in the picture. “He looks tiny,” he commented, pausing as he saw noticed his old clothes and the slightly feral look in his eyes. “And quite hard done by.”

“Certainly,” Dave nodded. “These mammals likely don’t even know what they’re doing. They’re just middle-mammals. And the poor and kits at that, what kind of mammal would do such a thing?”

…

“Basil, dear?” the thicker mouse asked, the concern growing in his voice.

“You know exactly who,” the thinner mouse replied, darkly. “We know exactly who.

Dave looked at him for a second or two before sighing. “Given that interview and Hopps’ finding, it’s… -it’s a small possibility, certainly.”

“It would be right up his alley, and I bet he’s enjoying himself right now, running circles around us,” Basil replied, as he walked over to his own computer. He quickly loaded it up, starting to search through his documents. “The thing is, I know how he operates and how he works, so I took the liberty of doing some side-research.”

“Side research?” Dave asked.

Basil looked back and nodded. “I don’t believe in coincidences,” he said. “I have a suspicion, which I was able to get Catano to look at a while ago. Now, come here and look at this.”

Dave did so, and looked on as Basil explained his reasoning and began looking through the documents they had.

It didn’t take long for them to back off, looking at each other with worried looks.

“It all lines up,” Basil said.

Dave nodded. “Indeed, it does… Too many coincidences. There’s only one thing for it. We tell the chief.”

“That we do,” Basil announced, and off they went.

.

.

.

.

“I hear you have a suspect?” Bogo asked as he settled down at his desk. He looked at the two mice in front of him, his expression unreadable.

“We do,” Basil announced. “I’m afraid that I have a hypothesis as to who Kazar’s mystery sponsor was.”

“Why would you be afraid,” the Chief asked. “If you have a theory, we can check it out, interviewing this mammal as a suspect.”

“Well, that’s the trouble,” Dave said, fumbling a little. “This is not a mammal that we could interview, or hold accountable…”

“Why?” Bogo snorted. “Diplomatic immunity? -Who even are we talking about here?”

There was a pregnant pause, the two mice looking at each other before Basil stepped forwards. “The mammal in question is one of the most vicious and unscrupulous mammals that I have ever had the displeasure of encountering. For much of my professional life, he has been my bane and my nemesis, and I am, or _was_ , continually appalled by each increasing act of villainy, despite promising myself that this time I would be ready for it. Indeed, part of his villainy is why you haven’t heard of him, given that Interpol feared his crimes were so dreadful that it was better to censor them so as to protect the public.”

Bogo held up a hoof. “Before I became Chief,” he said slowly, “I was aware of at least one classified case like that, one that I was never involved in so I never knew the details. All I know is that Interpol’s Director, Inspector Barkley himself, came over to help. That badger classified it as one of their ‘Fiendish Files’.”

“An apt moniker, and I shouldn’t be surprised if it was our case,” Dave noted, as Basil carried on.

“We previously stopped him from acts of kitnapping, fraudulent impersonations of others and multiple attempts at murder, not limited to literal regicide.”

“Regicide?”

“If you don’t believe us, we can call King Iorek Byrnison of Svalbard and he can tell you how we saved him. Sadly, there are likely tens, if not hundreds, of murders that I have likely failed to stop him at. Over a decade ago he went silent, vanishing off the face of the earth. After all this time I thought he was gone, but clues that have been cropping up since Kazar’s fall suggest that he may be back, hiding in the shadows and pulling the strings. We are talking about a relentless and truly despicable international criminal here, Chief Bogo. I believe that these events are all being driven by the return of Professor Padriach Rattigan!”

Both mice shivered at the name, acting as if a dreadful flash of lightning and thunderclap had ripped through the room. Bogo, meanwhile, looked down at them, his mouth twisting up to the side a little. “Rattigan?” He pondered. “I’ve heard that name a few times before, but mostly by mammals talking about him like he’s some monster under the bed. I thought that he was a children’s story or something.”

“Then you should count yourself lucky,” Basil said.

Dave nodded, before stepping forwards, solemnly taking his glasses off. Bringing out a bit of cloth, he cleaned them to calm himself down a little, speaking as he did so. “Kazar’s testimony suggests a dangerous, egomaniacal mammal in charge, and one who can inspire many to his side. Rattigan, during his times in Little Rodentia and beyond, had many under his sway. Larger mammals would walk past our little district, completely oblivious to the goings on in there. Functionally it was formerly a very separate place, politically at least. Combined with the classified nature, I’m not surprised if all you heard was heresy.”

Bogo nodded slightly, listening on as Basil took over. “But when I heard Kazar’s speech…. On that day I received a grim reminder of that old fiend, and the dark and despicable entourage that followed him. The most infamous was his lover, Felicity Pawker; a Pallas cat who acted as his head torturer, executioner and evidence disposer, all rooted in her status as a notorious cannibal.” He gulped a little, shaking his head. “Many missing mice or rodents may have met their end in her kitchen, either given mercy before then or being alive for the whole process. I remember her once swallowing a live shrew whole…”

Bogo coughed a few times, his eyes widening.

“-But, more relevant to this case!” Basil announced. “-Was his dogsbody, a strange individual by the name of ‘Fidget’, an insectivorous bat. The very same bat, if I’m right, who Hopps saw on the jam cams stealing the night howlers!”

“We last encountered them over ten years ago,” Basil explained. “We’d been following a report of him taking an airship cruise, touring the North Purrcific Ring of Fire along the Cascades, the Aleutians, and the Kamchatkan volcanic range. We tried to intercept him during the return stopover at Pawaii. We caught a glimpse of him but he eluded us at Howlulu. Not long after we tracked down his main lab only to find him gone. Bar some potential travel leads and such, there was nothing… He’d vanished! Over time, we became complacent and assumed he’d gone, though it seems that we may be terribly, terribly wrong.”

…

Silence filled the room, the two mice looking up at the Chief. He remained silent, looking between them, before sinking down, his head resting in his hooves. “A cannibal…” he muttered.

“An infamous one,” Basil stated, only to break off as Bogo chuckled a little.

“-An infamous cannibal,” he said, his words cutting deep as he looked up. “Who, oddly enough, I haven’t heard of.” He opened up his computer and began typing in. “Now, the mythical Rattigan being someone who’s overblown reputation preceded him I can understand. In a way, I can almost understand why Interpol classified the case. But still, you’re telling me that, in my city, we’ve had a horrific rodent eating mass murderer who’s operated for the last few decades, yet no legal action has been taken?”

“Most of the time, people who knew them were either on his side or didn’t live to tell the tale,” Basil stated, crossing his arms.

“Except you.” Bogo noted, before looking down at his computer. “And no non-classified records of her, not even a parking ticket. How interesting.”

Basil blinked a few times, before marching forwards. “Are you saying I’m lying?”

“I’m saying that I’m finding this very hard to believe,” Bogo interrupted, looking down at his computer. “There are few vague references to a Rattigan in here, though in most cases it could be brushed off as a bad mammal using his name. I’ll request access to the Interpol files, but even if he does exist I want something solid. If you want me to believe you, if you want me to believe that there’s a rat supervillain in my city with a mass murdering cannibal at his side, then you better explain why he’s got about as much on his as the Boogeymammal.”

Dave stepped forwards. “Because he’s not like a large mammal or a normal criminal; rodentcrime operates under a different set rules to regular crime. These mammals have no fixed abode, no records, most mammals don’t even know that they exist. They can operate in the darkest shadows, moving from place to place and sneaking about under larger mammals’ noses! Because they are small, and that’s their strength. And, using it, they cause great tyranny and evil!”

“Really,” Bogo scoffed. “Surely I’d have heard of it. Surely, we’d have heard of all the murders that you say took place, regardless of how hard those super-cops try and airbrush it out. In any case, I still have a hard time believing that a rodent, a rat I guess, was behind it all. This crime king of your little mouse town.”

“Yes, _our_ little mouse town,” Basil said, marching up to Bogo. “A separate part of the city that most mammals don’t think about, because it’s full of little mice getting on with their lives happily. They think of it as a little place where not much goes on, whereas in fact it’s one of the most populous districts of the city. When mammals think of criminals, they think of big mammals or medium ones with guns, not mice. Sure, you have a few robberies and murders in there, but if they hear that there’s some mysterious tyrant in there then they think it’s a joke. I’m not blaming you, Rattigan lived in and cultivated his infamy and the disbelief it caused. His body count was terrible, but simultaneously drowned out given the overall size of the rodent community. It didn’t help that he had much of the local press paid off and bad things happened to those who tried to speak.”

“And yet you fought him,” Bogo said. “You defeated him, and lived, and here you are, finally talking about him years after he went. Why now? Why now, and not then…”

Dave sighed. “We did, a few times. I’m getting some strong Deja-vu to those situations right now.”

“Quite elementary really,” Basil added. “Because of the inaction and disbelief by some in the ZPD, we felt it best to handle it ourselves at first. This was all part of his plan you see, his refuge in audacity. To most mammals, it doesn’t make any sense. After all, what harm can rats or mice really do? Well, because mammals think that, they don’t see what the powerful could do in there, or out of there. His crimes inside the District were just the tip of his criminal iceberg. Surely you at least know that the vast majority of fraud and white-collar crime is done by smaller mammals, especially rodents.”

Bogo paused and nodded. “I will give you that.”

“That’s because there are more rodents sized holes, tunnels and gaps in this city, in every city, than you can count! If I looked close enough, I could probably find a hole in this building and work myself over to Tundratown before emerging again. And, it’s in places like these that Rattigan and his crew, scrubbed from the records and drifting by themselves, could fester! Could plot, and scheme, and do their wicked ways. Mice didn’t get murdered, Bogo, they went missing, and were never found again. The murder rate back in Little Rodentia back then might be low, but look at the missing mammal’s rate!”

The cape buffalo did some more searching and the mice looked on. The Chief scanned through the records, only for his eyes to widen, and he slid back from the computer, his face even paler than before. “Maybe I had the wrong ideas about you,” he noted quietly. “What I just saw there was certainly shocking, though the significant fall, which oddly enough coincided with you two starting out, at least gives me hope. Excuse me for a moment.”

The pair of mice looked on as he stood up and opened up a small locked drawer, pulling out a brandy decanter. Her poured a glass and took a healthy gulp of it, before settling himself back down. He then looked up, darkly. “There’s no smoke without a fire, and what I just saw left me choking there. I knew that the lack of police presence in Little Rodentia was bad in those days, but not… -Why didn’t we know back then? Why didn’t I know?”

“Because mice like us were scared,” Dave said solemnly, “and mammals like you thought the best of us.”

“In any case, recording equipment and such was dreadfully hard to come by in rodent sizes back then,” Basil explained. “He could get it, but the average mammal couldn’t. He ruled by fear, and had the town’s papers and reporters paid off. And, as I said before, Little Rodentia was just a fraction of his crime empire. Most of his criminal enterprises were done by full on large mammal gangs.”

“Then why didn’t I hear of those?” Bogo asked. “If they commanded larger mammals like Mr Big did, then why was that shrew infamous and your rat unknown?!”

“Because Mr Big enjoyed being the public face of everything. Rattigan’s modus operandi is different.” Basil paused, thinking for a second. “Not long before he vanished, we were following him in England and, while there, there was a terrible scare!”

Dave nodded, clearing his throat. “The linchpin of the country’s rail network is controlled via a key signal box at Bullingham Gnu Street Station and on that day it was attacked and occupied by a local equine gang known as the Peaky Blinkers. No-one knows why but, before the police could react, they were all distracted by something much larger. All trains across the region had been halted, including a small three car freight train. One engine at the front, one at the back, and in the centre there was a single truck, carrying a large yellow box.”

“Now, why the panic over that box?” Basil continued. “Elementary. That yellow box was a nuclear flask, transporting the last of the fuel from the recently decommissioned magnox reactors at Donkeyness to the reprocessing centre up north. There were reports of gangs attacking it, naturally getting a massive police response, but by the time they got there the perpetrators were gone. The same just so happened to be true for a massive quantity of cash being transported on a separate train in the local area, the real target! I interviewed the leader of the Blinkers not long after. He and his family didn’t want to do that, but they had no choice. Rattigan had completely blackmailed them into performing his criminal masterwork! Now you see how he works, now you see why he’s invisible. He blackmails and conspires, putting others in the limelight while he’s back in the shadows. And now he’s doing just that. He’s returned back to our city, staying out of sight, but we’re out here starting to see the shadows of his plans rippling in the light!”

“I…” Bogo began, before shaking his head. “This is all too much...”

“Ah, no Chief. It’s quite eleme…”

“-If you finish that word, you’re on two months parking duty,” Bogo interrupted. “Believe me, I can find a way.”

There was a pause, the mice staying silent as he rubbed his temples.

“You talk of this rat blackmailing other, much larger, mammals into doing his bidding,” he began wearily. “Why don’t they rebel? Why can’t one of them just walk up and give him a whack with a bat? I mean even a fennec could off him, probably quite gruesomely. I’m not going to lie, from the sound of it there may well have been some terrible crime lord like this in the past, in Little Rodentia.” He paused, his eyes staring at his laptop for a second or two before he reached for his glass, taking another large drink. “We may have failed an enormous number of innocent lives. If you believe and have evidence that this rat exists, that he’s present, you can come to me and present it and I’ll believe it. But right now, you’re suggesting that, on the sole basis of an unidentified bat being involved, this mythical mammal has returned to Zootopia, that’s he’s operating, and that he was pulling the strings for Kazar of all mammals? One who openly scoffed at weaker mammals? One who could have ground your rat under his hoof? I’ve seen a lot in my time on the force, don’t get me wrong. But this just feels too far out of there. If your rat worked by ticking off larger mammals, he could easily be a pancake right now. Big only avoided that fate by being an excellent, -or, given recent events, appearing to be an excellent business mammal and paying well.”

“Rattigan helped Kazar by working out how to distil the howlers,” Basil pointed out, “and he supplied them.”

“Rattigan could blackmail, he was also a genius and a diplomat,” Dave added. “He knew that sometimes you needed fear and sometimes loyalty.”

Bogo paused, shaking his head. “Yes okay… But now Kazar is gone, so what now? It’s not as if this Rattigan can get a new army, is it?”

Basil walked forwards grimly. “If my theory is correct, and I sincerely hope it isn’t, he should be halfway there already.”

Bogo groaned. “This should be good.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd that Mr Big fell right now?” Basil asked. “I talked to him and he claimed that he kept his taxes in order. In fact, he’s not being charged with tax evasion by the ZRCS anymore, though given the murder charges that isn’t much comfort. It was hard getting in contact with him, but apparently his own ledgers aren’t showing the discrepancy. I even had Catano ask the tax firm he used and do you know what? The incriminating document doesn’t line up with the company’s ones.”

“You can check it yourself,” Dave added. “We bored right into their deep data files and found nothing saved there. Instead, one worker claims she received the email from her boss, which we know he didn’t actually send, and after finding the issue chose to report it.”

“Now, why would all this happen,” Basil asked. “Why? Well, it’s elementary. Someone who didn’t like Big, working in the limo service or tax firm, sent or hacked in that dodgy document which allowed the first investigation. It wouldn’t go anywhere by itself, but it wasn’t meant to! It just cracked the hard shell and let the investigators see the first few dodgy areas. The ZPD could then pull the thread until Big’s whole empire unravelled! And what happens when Big is deposed? What happens to his polar bears? What happens to the rest of his operation? I’ll tell you, Rattigan takes over! They don’t even know he dispatched their old boss, but he takes over like before. He likely set this up to hedge his bets in case Kazar proved unstable or was captured! _That_ is how dangerous he is!”

There was a silence for a second or two, before the cape buffalo shook his head. “I had an interesting talk recently with the ZPD’s resident therapist. He’s a nice mammal, and he happens to have a colleague at the Central Mental Hospitall. He talked about how she had a patient who believed that the whole world was run by evil sheep, and had built an entire worldview around it. Every new bit of evidence or new development that she found, she viewed through this lens, working out how it fitted into her grand ‘Cudspiracy’. ‘Cognitive dissonance,’ they call it; everything, even if it might pull away from that theory, was thus turned into a bit of evidence that made the whole thing stronger and stronger, harder to refute. That only made this patient look harder and leap further when incorporating more news in the future. What I’ve seen here is firm evidence that dangerous stuff was going on in Little Rodentia, stuff that you, no doubt heroically, helped to stop. I’m not denying the existence of your Rattigan, or his crew, even if they’re not on any currently unclassified record, but I am questioning what you’re suggesting now. Because it seems pretty crazy to me that this rat, who could easily be dispatched by any of the mammals he’s slighted, is out in Zootopia. That he’s behind the recent howler scare, that he’s Kazar’s mammal, that he toppled Big and so forth. After all, what do you have? A hunch? A feeling? All based on a mad-mammal’s ramblings and a blurry picture of a bat? I need more than that, far more. Dismissed.”

The two mice paused, looking at each other, before Basil stepped forwards. “But Chief…”

“-If you truly believe that this Rattigan mammal is up to this, and can find the evidence to prove it, then I will believe you. I advise you make good use of the time I’m providing you with.”

“If you knew him, you’d be scared,” Basil warned.

“If I knew him, I’d probably do what any mammal would do and take him down,” Bogo stated. “After all, he may be a rodent crime lord, but there’s nothing he can do against me.”

“You’d think that, but he’d find a way to blackmail you.”

Bogo snorted. “The day a rodent blackmails me is even less likely than a day when Wilde isn’t irritating.”

Basil blinked a few times, before whispering to Dave. “I didn’t know he was that much of a sceptic.”

“-I heard that,” the Chief replied. “Maybe when I am blackmailed by a rodent, I’ll let you go off chasing this rat around the world on the flimsiest of evidence. Until then, we follow things with firm evidence behind them. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” the mice replied.

“Then you’re dismissed. Again.”

They nodded and left, both in a rather depressed mood.

.

.

.

…

“What if he’s right.”

“Pardon, dear?”

“What if he’s right,” Basil said again. The pair had found a hidden little alcove near the showers in which to settle down and process everything, something that wasn’t going very well. “I mean, what if I am seeing Rattigan in everything? Everywhere.”

“Well, given our past experience with him, wouldn’t that be quite natural? We know what he can do.”

“Yes, we do,” Basil said out loud. “And we thought, or to be honest I thought, the same thing when the missing mammal case and the nighthowler scare came around. We started prepping, looking around, and trying to figure out if our evil rat had returned. But no, it turned out to be the mayor! -And then the next one!”

“Lots of people were fooled, it wasn’t that bad.”

“Wasn’t that bad?”

“Well, for you more than I. After all, I was the one who voted for them!”

“Tchhh, waste of time, voting,” Basil mumbled.

“As you oft repeat.”

“You’re missing the point here Dave, I’m pretty useless as a detective if every unknown is met with the fear that it’s you know who!”

“Yes, particularly seeing as we know Voldemort’s quite deceased.”

…

Basil gave his husband a slight look out of the corner of his eye, a single chuckle escaped his mouth. He then relaxed a bit, before sighing. “In all seriousness, is my obsession with him limiting me, as a detective?”

“I wouldn’t say that…”

“But what if it is?” he repeated, biting his lip slightly and looking away as he did so. “What if it is. My duty is to search for the truth, to find it in the tightest corners and pull it out of the smallest and deepest holes. It’s a singular thing that I strive towards, that I always strive towards, aiming to uncover it whatever the cost… But while I’m certain that I can decipher and follow any and every clue, what if my own biases mislead me? What if that memory of the rat is always harming me…? I don’t know where he is, Dave; he just up and vanished all those years ago. But maybe he planned it that way, his final victory. Because he may be free of me, but I will never, ever, be free of him.”

“In my time as a detective, do you know what I’ve come to realise?” Dave asked. “I’ve to come realise that, often or not, the most important trait is self-doubt. You have to be able to realise you were wrong, and turn around on a moment’s notice. All those times you feared him, you were able to do something different as soon as you found something harder and firmer to hold on to. So, tell me, is there anything like that for this case?”

“No, not that I can think of,” Basil replied.

“Then, for now, I don’t think you’re a fool for fearing him. You might be feeling a fool now, but I’m quite certain that the case where you bar yourself from looking for him will naturally be the one where he returns.”

“Oh, quite certainly.”

“Most naturally indeed,” Dave replied.

“So, now what?”

“Well, what do you think?”

“Well, I think that we redouble our efforts. Triple them! Find every little tit-bit we can, whether it’s evidence of him or not!”

“And if it isn’t, we pursue that new truth!”

“And if it is…” Basil continued, before pausing. “If it is, what then? I mean, it’s not like he’s well known, though given the terrible things he did I feel that’s a good thing in a way. But Bogo doesn’t know what he’s dealing with, not even getting back in contact with the old Chief or the head of Interpol might be able to help with that. He doesn’t even consider rodent criminals much of a threat.”

“Well, we’ll have to, shall we say, burn that bridge when we get to it.”

Basil nodded grimly, and the pair stood up ready to leave, only to pause as they heard a slight commotion coming their way.

 _“-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, but it’s too late now…”_ Nick Wilde.

 _“Come on_ Slick _, you can stop joking.”_ And Judy.

“I’m not joking. I’ve got the ball and chain, I’m hitched, I am now a married fox!”

“Hah-Hah…”

“I’m surprised you’re taking this so well. Though maybe it’s because you acknowledge what a fabulous lady Rebecca, or should I say Mrs Wilde, is now.”

“Wouldn’t it be Mrs Oshiro,” she pointed out, as they both came into the view of the mice. Judy looked perfectly ordinary, dressed up in her usual police issue gear. Nick meanwhile had a bath towel wrapped around him, while the front of his face was completely white.

“Oh goodness,” Dave remarked, the bunny and fox pausing to look at them.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Basil began, “I smell a distinct odour similar to that of certain kinds of chalk in the air, suggesting that it’s either that calcium carbonate mineral or talcum. Given the recent lull in activity, it’s not too unreasonable that you were put back on one of your cub abuse cases, in doing do ending up with baby powder on your face as we see here.”

“Yup,” Nick noted. “Fitted in another, _interesting_ , investigation.”

“Take down any bad mammals again?” Dave asked.

Nick shook his head. “Turns out that that place, or rather one of the nurses, turns out to be an excellent embodiment of Hanlon’s Razor.”

“Ah, I see,” Dave replied. “That explains the…” he began, before gesturing at his face.

“Yup. I didn’t even know it was that hard to mess up a diaper change.”

Basil blinked. “But I thought your cover didn’t…”

Nick cleared his throat, interrupting him. “What did I say the sentence before last?”

“Ah, I see,” he noted, Nick giving a strong nod in response. The mice detectives looked at each other, before Basil suddenly had an idea. “Say, a quick question…”

“-No, I am not.”

“Actually, it’s about the Chief. You two have had much more experience with him, so you might be able to help us. How can we convince him of something that he stubbornly doesn’t believe?”

The bunny and fox looked at each other nervously. “He tends to ignore words,” Judy began, “but if you give him firm evidence, he’ll accept it.”

Nick nodded. “Yup. And of course, if some stubborn big mammal has given you a way of eating his own words you should always make them eat them. I can also attest to large scale complex practical demonstrations also working very well.”

“Don’t give them bad ideas,” Judy half-heartedly scolded. “Now go on, get showered up.”

“Hey, you’re not my wife,” he jibed, the bunny rolling his eyes. He then turned to the mouse and smirked. “While there, a rather cute painted dog cub decided she loved me and wanted to marry me, proposing with a playdoh ring. I’m afraid I couldn’t say no.”

“Come on,” Judy said, rolling her eyes as she began to push him in.

“-If it’s any consolation, I was trying to sign the heck out of it.”

“Keep moving.”

“You’re just jealous because she had the bigger bum.”

“That was probably helped by her diaper…”

“Excuses excuses…”

…

The bunny and fox duo left the two mice, who looked at each other. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Basil asked.

“I’m thinking that if we want to use that old disguise again, we need more white fur dye.”

“No, no, no…” he said. “Didn’t Bogo say that _‘maybe when I am blackmailed, I’ll let you go off chasing this rat around the world on the flimsiest of evidence.’_ ”

“Yes he did, and I think I know where you’re going with this.”

“And I think you’re onboard with it.”

“And I think I am.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

.

“Now, do you think we could use some disguises for this?”

“We’re sneaking around and spying, not doing undercover work, Davey boy, the idea is that we aren’t seen,” Basil replied. They’d slipped into a tiny rodent sized lift and were making their way up to the top of the building. “In any case, which disguise were you thinking of?”

“Well, I had it in my mind to use the pair that we used in that incident at that chicken farm,” Dave replied. There was a ping and a rattle as they reached the top floor, one which happened to be above Bogo’s office. Up here there were spare cubicles and open office spaces, though the main use was for storage. The duo scurried forth, weaving through the large cardboard boxes, pressing their backs up to them as they caught their breath.

Basil panted a few times, before looking at Dave, the more rotund mouse suffering much more from the exertion. “The chicken farm?”

“Yes,” he replied, taking a breath in. “You know, the one where Rattigan used that experimental sentience inducing gene therapy serum he’d discovered somehow. He wanted to convince the world that non-sentient animals could naturally become sentient, hoping to destroy the predator food supply and take over with his fungus based substitutes. You remember that one?”

“I remember that you played the ‘smart’ mouse in that one.”

“Oh, you had your moments too. We both enjoyed those characters, didn’t we?” Dave replied, as Basil sneaked around a corner and gave a peek.

“But you still want to be the clever one, don’t…” he began, before his eyes widened. He grabbed Dave and pulled him back into a small corner as a hyena girl stepped out of the shadows.

…

“I don’t think she heard us,” he whispered, leaning to look out again. He jolted back though as a gust of wind blasted past, something huge sweeping across the floor. It raked past again, then forwards once more, kicking dust into the mice’s face. The boxes around them shook, and Basil leapt to hold onto Dave, closing his eyes until it ending.

Carefully, the pair leant out again, and spotted the janitor hyena carry on her vacuuming in the other direction, bopping and dancing to the music from her headphones as she went.

“Well,” Dave noted, “I am the most composed one.”

Basil scowled, before racing forwards, waving his husband on. They dove down onto all fours, cutting right and then left, until reaching another safe space. “Honestly, where the hell did Rattigan  _ get _ that serum anyhow? His temporary lab showed him trying to work out  _ what  _ it was and failing at it.”

“Well, I always presumed it was some mad Soeviet creation or what not,” Dave noted. “After all, it was in that lab where we found the poster for his final airship cruise. Announcing that for the first time they’d be allowed to visit that giant lava lake in Kamchatka.”

“Maybe Rattigan was moving on to volcano-based villainy, I wouldn’t put it past him,” Basil said, as he began creeping around. He paused as he noticed a long shelf above him, running along the entire wall, buried behind all the boxes. “Up there,” he noted, Dave looking significantly less keen.

“If you insist,” he said wearily, as they made their way to a dog-eared corner of a cardboard box and began climbing up it. Whether fit or not, the laws of biology made this task a particularly easy one for them both, and they were soon racing along the shelf. “As for the volcano stuff, don’t give me nightmares, please,” Dave noted, racing after Basil. “I mean, that place was originally closed off to the world for decades due to some classified research into tapping it for power generation experiments or laser weapons or something. Maybe he thought that some clue to his serum would be in one of those labs, but from the reports only fragments were left. The authorities had cleaned it all up.”

“And maybe he was able to find some clue there?” Basil replied. “I mean, the last we saw of him, he was going to the other end of the old Union, or at least we think so. -Though worryingly there are volcanoes in that part of Russia too… Regardless, he went silent after that. Maybe he had an accident, or got a dose of that serum himself… I would be eternally satisfied if he ended up being done in by his own hubris.”

“Maybe using it on a clever mammal makes them dim,” Dave joked, as the pair made it to the end. In front of them was a small space left open, giving access to a trio of doors.

“Now,” Basil began pondering, “if I’m right, then the behind the centre door is a storage cupboard, and behind that we can access the main electric riser.”

“Right then,” Dave agreed, pausing as he saw Basil jump off the ledge and fall to the ground. Due to his size, they would both be perfectly safe, despite the fall being many times their height. Still, he couldn’t help but be a bit nervous. He closed his eyes and leapt, bracing for impact and landing on the floor in an ungraceful roll. He stood up, brushed himself off, and then took after Basil. The pair quickly slipped under the door, making their way to a plug socket at the back. Eyeing it up, Basil took a special tool off of his back. There was one small bit of metal, with a flat head and cross head on either end, the latter of which he pushed into one of the plug’s screws. A magnet held it in place as they both got out two long bits of metal, slotting them into holes on the rod’s sides. Stepping out to the long ends and putting their backs into it, they jolted as the screw broke loose. Together, they then repositioned their handles and easily turned it a bit more, then repeating the process again and again. Slowly, quietly and effectively, they began breaking the socket loose.

“Maybe it does make them dim,” Basil pondered, as they took out screw after screw. “I mean, maybe that was why those chicken farmers were so stupid. Their egg hens were telling them that they were alive and sentient, but did they believe it? Nope! In fact, they promptly chose to go from egg farming to meat!”

“Don’t I remember,” Dave huffed.

“They got in a whole chicken pie machine.”

“Yes, well, apologies in advance for the pun,” Dave began. “But that henpecked husband did sort of realise stuff was up.”

“Yes, I remember,” Basil said, as they moved onto the final screw. “ _ ’Them chickens are organised!’ _ By the end of it, he must have been at his wits end, especially given the damage a  _ certain _ pair of rodents ended up causing.”

“Well, not like we didn’t help his mental state,” Dave chuckled. “Remember when we absconded with his tools, so the chickens could work on their flying machine?”

“Oh, of course I do,” Basil chuckled. “A disguise on top of a disguise, and he believed it poor fellow.”

“ _ ’Ooooh, gnomes now!’ _ ”

“Ah, good times, good times,” Dave chuckled, as they finally got the socket open. In they crawled, finding themselves in a long, tall and narrow space. Either side of them were steel frames holding up the plasterboard, the insulated sides showing themselves. To Dave’s right, he noticed the electrical wires shoot upwards, and he noted glumly that this, like most buildings, carried their wiring in a suspended ceiling. “Well, I’m not going up.”

“Neither am I,” Basil replied, as he waved Dave on. “You see, this being an expensive public building, they likely know that mice incursions are a risk! That means the risers will be filled with motion and heat sensors, designed to stop exactly this.”

“Ah, then. So, how do we get down?”

“Using the risers.”

“You just skipped a page.”

“No,” Basil replied, looking back at his mate with a cunning look in his eyes. He paused next to a bit of insulation, pulling it apart to reveal some plasterboard. “You have the item?”

“I presume you mean this little number,” Dave said, bringing out a miniature buzzsaw. It was actually two ones, the blades designed to spin in the opposite direction so as to not throw off the small users. Taking it out, alongside a battery he’d had strapped to his back, the larger mouse set it up and began work, quickly grinding a small hole in the plasterboard. Letting the bit of debris fall off, Dave blinked a few times as he saw a plastic pipe in front of him. “This is the moment when you act all smart and explain your cunning plan, isn’t it?”

“Let me explain my cunning plan, I think you’ll find that it’s all quite elementary,” Basil said, coming forward. “They put sensors in the risers, but not in the pipes that go through the risers. Now, on the bottom two floors there are bathroom blocks, and pipes go down from them and into the down pipe in this riser. However, with each flush, you draw air in which could cause vacuums and all sorts. As a result, every down pipe has a vent at roof level to stop a vacuum forming. This is that vent. We don’t have to worry about waste coming down from on top off us, unless we go too far down and below the first connection to the toilets. Once we cut in, we can rappel down to the right level, cut out again, and sneak over until we’re above the Chief’s office!”

“What about the smell?”

“I…” Basil began, before pausing. “We’ll just have to bear it, I guess.”

Dave looked away, before clicking his fingers. Tearing two small chunks out of the foam insulation, he packed them up his nose.

“AH!” Basil announced, doing exactly the same, which inevitably made his voice go squeaky.  _ “Elementary!” _

_ … _

A short abseil later, the two of them cut through both pipe and plasterboard, emerging out into a black expanse, pipes and wires running everywhere. Fixing headlamps, the two set off, slowly crawling along the top of suspended ceiling.

“This should be along the corridor,” Basil whispered, as he followed the path of a massive cable tray. Every now and again they’d have to duck under a branch or under a thin ventilation shaft. They made their way through a forest of hanging supports, shivered and sweltered as they passed heating and cooling pipes, and had to hold still as they thought they heard a spider off in the distance.

Basil’s eyes narrowed, and he brought out a small blade, long since broken off a swiss army knife, and began cutting through a mass of cobwebs. He closed his eyes here and there, to try and judge where they were. “If I’m right,” he said, “given the length of our walk and the compromising factor due to our less than ideal path, we should be halfway there.”

“Actually, we just passed it.”

Basil looked back, spotting Dave lying on his front next to the top of a light unit. There were gaps in the casing, allowing him to peak through. “Excellent,” the thinner mouse said, as he raced over. Thankfully, the Chief’s Office was separated by another partition wall, and there was a slight gap in the section that extended above the ceiling.

The mice slipped through, being extra quiet as they snuck up next to another lighting unit. Eyes peeled, ears at the ready, they peeked through. They both knew that they could be in for a long wait, and might not even get anything credible to use against him.

In a way, they both knew that they were in for a long, tiring, and potentially fruitless stakeout.

.

…

“WOW! YOU ARE ONE GREAT DANCER  _ CHIEF BO-GO. _ ”

.

On the other paw…

They watched with wide eyes as the Chief danced to the app, which was decidedly  _ so  _ four years ago, yet still entranced him. Basil looked to Dave, the mouse holding out a very expensive miniature sound recorder, getting every second of it.

For the great mouse detective, that wasn’t quite enough. He gestured to his mate and brought out a far more expensive mouse sized video recorder. He waved along, the two scurrying so that they were behind him, right next to another light unit. Bringing out a rope and winch system, Basil fixed his line and slowly lowered himself down.

He held his breath, fully expecting it to be a high stake, high tension, milliseconds away from being spotted affair.

Thankfully, Bogo was so enraptured that Basil got a full minute of footage before getting away scot free. The pair raced back the way they came, making sure to seal the holes in the soil vent pipe they made, lest they let a noxious and incriminating smell out. All the way up again, out into the storage room, and Basil couldn’t help but give the same chuckle he’d perfect on that chicken farm mission years ago.

“Now,” Dave replied, adopting the same mannerisms and voice from his character back then. “How do you suppose we exploit with this little bit of information, Fetcher?”

“I don’t think you gets eggs from this one, Nick,” Basil replied, sounding unconvinced.

“No you don’t, but suppose you do. You can have one egg now, or hatch it to get a chicken, and get all the eggs you can ever want!”

“What if it’s a boy? I’m not stupid, I remember that from last time.”

“Naaah,” Dave replied, elbowing his mate. “Compromising information is all female you see.”

“Why’s that then.”

“’Cause you can milk ‘em,” Dave said with a wink. They both gave a mischievous laugh, before setting off for phase 2.

.

.

The next morning, Bogo entered his office, early as usual. He had his duties to fulfil before the rest of the forces got in and not much time to do it in. To top it off, he was grumpier than usual.

“Oh, morning Chief!”

“Morning Clawhauser,” he said, the jovial cheetah’s mood at least helping him a bit.

“Morning Chief,” came another voice, and Bogo looked up to see Catano standing next to the desk.

“Morning. You’re in early today.”

“I had some business in the morning,” she replied, stretching a bit. “I might as well come in early.”

“Right then,” he replied, giving her a nod.

“-You know,” Ben spoke, “I’d have just said that I wanted to get to the bottom of this case ASAP.”

“I think Officer Catano is above Brownnosing,” Bogo dismissed, as he walked off to the lift. He pressed the button and waited for the door to close, pausing as he noticed her race in. She stood next to him in silence for a second or two as they began to move up, before shrugging.

“-Well,” she began. “I will be helping out on the case some more,” she said. “But that’s not the reason I was in early.”

Bogo nodded, smiling slightly. “So, maybe you’re not above it then.”

“-Huh,” she remarked, looking up to him. “This… -I was just stating the truth,” she said, a little defensively. “I was here early for other reasons, but I will be using that time constructively.”

“Right then,” he nodded. “Though I’m not sure if it matters either way.”

“Why would you say that?” she asked, cocking her head slightly.

“Because I’m not sure if this case is one where just throwing your time away will solve it,” he muttered. “Hopps and Wilde poured through jam-cam footage, getting a small lead that could hardly be called that. Meanwhile, our two detectives came in at another angle and knocked out the perps. Only, now, we have new perps operating somewhere, and we don’t know where.”

There was a grumble from Catano. “And we keep on giving perps a free ride away from justice to find the truth, and what do we find? Dead end after dead end…”

“Not quite yet,” he pointed out. “While we’re here, I might as well discuss this.” There was a pause as they arrived on his floor. “-We’ll walk and talk. Anyway, we can try and follow that new leads. The areas the handovers were taking place in have terrible camera coverage, but we could try and identify and follow those up the chain.”

“With the photos we have, I’m not that confident,” Catano noted.

“Me neither, even with Wilde’s incredible facial recognition on our side. That was why I was also contemplating putting you and the others in patrol in those areas, looking out for any of the mammals, adults or teens, who were being used as smugglers.”

“In case they were able to follow the chain a bit further along?”

“Exactly,” he huffed, scratching his head. “Or if they heard anything about the details of who the mystery partner is.”

“I’d think that if they were that far in, they might fear giving the information away,” Catano pointed out. “Especially if it’s a younger teen.”

“That’s a risk I hadn’t thought of. Well, much as you are loathed to disagree with it, we can give them a reprieve after threatening to go hard if they help out.”

There was a long pause, before Catano spoke, suddenly sounding a bit unsure of herself. “Which part would you think I’d disagree with?”

“Well, you’ve been quite a vocal critic of letting mammals off the hook, haven’t you?” Bogo pointed out, looking down at the smaller cheetah. He paused though as he saw her frown.

“For mammals involved in messed up stuff, yes. -And maybe, if those teens knew exactly what was in their containers, then they should definitely be held accountable. But I’m guessing they didn’t know. They might have been poor and not known what they were a part of, just how bad it was. By all means give them a grilling from hell, call them out on it and maybe caution them. But I don’t think a dumb but harmless teen needs the book thrown at them.”

“Hmmm,” the buffalo noted. “I thought you were a ‘throw the book at them’ mammal.”

She nodded, scratching the back of her head. “I just want justice to be served,” she sighed. “And then there’s mammals like that kangaroo, who weave through the system to get off the hook, and then rub it in your face.” She’d winced up at that, the fur on her head sticking up. Arriving at Bogo’s office, the cape buffalo waved her in, continuing their conversation as he booted up his computer systems. He looked at her curiously, thinking.

“What’s your opinion of Officer Wilde, then?”

Catano paused, looking at him for a second or two. “Just so we’re on the same page, he only did borderline legal stuff, barring some now sorted tax issues, before he joined on?”

“That is correct.”

“Good,” she said, relaxing. “I mean, by all means, had I met him before I’d have given him a talking to about cleaning up.”

“Even though it’s not illegal?”

There’s codes of conduct for life,” she pointed out. “Same reason I was truthful early. Legal and honest aren’t the same thing, and back then Wilde would have needed to hear the riot act on it. However, it seems Hopps already did the job, and he followed through.” There was a pause as she thought. “Those teens and such, they need that kind of talking to. Tell them as it is and drag them kicking and screaming away from the bad stuff. It might be uncomfortable, they might hate it, but it needs to be done.”

“Though,” Bogo pointed out, “surely those mammals, teen or otherwise, who knew or had chased up the chain would likely have known what they were doing beforehand?”

Catano paused, looking at him and frowning. “Are you being a devil’s advocate?”

Bogo’s eyes raised slightly. “In all my years, Catano, I have yet to see an officer being so blunt in calling me out for that.”

The cheetah blinked a few times, gawking. “So, you admit it?”

“Catano,” he replied, “I get all sorts of fancy theories from my detectives, some which turn out to be true, but most not. I’ve seen multiple ones get carried away with their pet theories. As the Chief, I need to challenge their ideas, make them justify them in front of me, down to the finest detail. I’m disagreeable for the sake of being disagreeable, as that’s how you whittle down to the truth.” He paused slightly. “Maybe it does carry on a bit too far here and there, I’ll admit that.”

“Fair enough,” she said. “In any case, your idea is worth a shot. Anything to get further along with this case.”

“Agreed,” he said. “I’m beginning to regret busting Kazar so early.”

“Huh,” Catano gawped. “Why? Surely that’s a good thing, getting him and a chunk of the danger off the street A-S-A-P.”

Bogo looked up at her, a faintest of faint smile growing on his muzzle. “I see you’re not quite catching on,” he said. “We took him out, yes, but there’s still his associate out there. One, who for all we know, may be far more dangerous. He knows how to refine howlers, and he almost certainly has some. Despite that though, the city is taking it less seriously. Warnings have gone out, but since Kazar’s defeat they’ve been muted. Most citizens think they’re safe and the danger is gone when in truth we just don’t know. In any case, had we pulled him in later, maybe we’d have been lucky and got more information on our other guy. We don’t even know his name, or where he is.”

Catano nodded her head. “For all we know, it could be a ZPD officer. Where better to hide, than under our noses…” She paused, thinking. “There’s this show that my flatmate likes, and they had someone like that. Seemingly so far embedded in the enemy side that no one ever suspected he was a double agent. Meanwhile, he organised the resistance. All anyone knew was that his codename was ‘The Owl’.”

Bogo groaned. “Sounds appropriate for our mammal.”

“Maybe it isn’t a mammal,” she said. “Maybe a sentient reptile or bird. For all we know, maybe it's an actual owl?”

Bogo nodded. “We don’t know, though given how incredibly rare they are it’s highly unlikely. All I know is that I’m glad Wilde isn’t here to make an obvious pun.”

There was a brief pause, before Catano snickered and nodded. “It was just an idea,” she said. “This same show features giants and ‘a devil of all the world too’. Who knows, maybe our owl is those things too?”

Bogo nodded. “We don’t know, and I don’t like that, but some things are far more likely than others. They’re our best shot for now. Dismissed.”

Catano nodded, and saw herself out.

Bogo looked at the time and groaned. That had taken a bit longer than expected, and he needed to double check his emails before coming up for the list for today’s duties. He began filtering through them, his eyes narrowing at another call from the DA suggesting a heightened police presence in certain neighbourhoods (which just so happened to be predator heavy), before his phone rang. Who now, he thought, as he pulled it up.

“ _ CHIEF BOGO…” _

He flinched back at the odd, distorted, voice, before leaning back in. “Alright. Who is this, and you do know that wasting police time is a criminal offence?”

“WE WOULD NOT WANT TO WASTE THE TIME OF ONE GREAT DANCER SUCH AS POLICE CHIEF BOGO!!!”

He went silent, frozen like a deer in headlights.

“WOW… YOU ARE ONE GREAT…”

“Who are you and what do you want!” Bogo screamed back into the phone. “I’ll have you know that I cannot be compromised by such simple blackmail.”

“WE DO NOT WANT YOU TO BREAK THE LAW. MERELY ABIDE BY CERTAIN SIMPLE REQUESTS…”

“Or, what?” the Chief queried.

“OR WE HAVE A COMPROMISING VIDEO.”

“And what will you do with it?” he said, his nostrils flaring. “Try putting it up on the internet, I can have it taken down in seconds.”

“WHICH IS WHY WE’LL EMAIL IT TO ONE NICHOLAS PIBERIUS WILDE.”

“Oh.”

He shook his head though and huffed. “If you think I’ll break some law to save myself some embarrassment, you are sorely mistaken! After all, the embarrassment of breaking the law would be far greater than any video like this. You really don’t think this through, do you!”

“I THINK YOU WILL FIND OTHERWISE….”

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Meanwhile, in a different office, Basil and Dave were speaking into a microphone. The former taking the lead, the other following, the delay added to the electronic distortion they were applying, keeping their identities secret for now.

“Let’s play a game!” They said together. “We give you requests to do, you do them. Starting with a simple one. Individually compliment all officers today at today’s rollcall.”

…

“Is that you, Wilde!?”

“No!” they called out together. “Try again next time, Buffalo Butt…”

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“Alright, alright!” Bogo announced, as he walked into the bullpen. He paused, looking back at Higgins, before speaking. “Crisp shirt today,” he noted, sending the hippo blinking.

“Uhhh, thanks, sir.”

There was a whisper from the crowd, Bogo internally gritting his teeth. He didn’t know who these jokers were, but he could manage this for them, not that he liked it. “Rhinowitz, you’re looking alert today, partner with Fangmeyer and continue with your regular patrols. Fangmeyer,” he said, looking at the wolf of that name. “I’ve noticed you’ve been keeping good care of your fur. Keep it up.”

“Uhh…” he began. “Sir, yes, sir!”

Chief Bogo then turned to the other Fangmeyer, the tigress. “Fangmeyer, that’s a finely polished badge by the way; McHorn, I note your horn is in excellent shape; Johnson, your mane is looking fine today. The ZTN has reported a series of copper thefts, go to their main headquarters and they’ll lead you from there. Jackson, your stripes are looking good; Wolfard, I must complement your howl last night; Grizzoli, I see those workouts have been serving you well. We’ve had reports of vandalism around Okavango Plaza. Investigate. Pennington, those tusks you have coming in are looking good; Delgato, you’re a fine example of why your species is called the king of the jungle. Standard patrols. Snarlov, your fur is shining so bright I can’t comprehend that it’s technically see-through; Anderson, your performance this year is putting you in line for a promotion. Tundratown patrols. Hopps, my best bunny; Wilde, my best fox, meet up with Catano for your briefing. Any questions?”

The sound of every mammal bar one’s paw going up filled the room, followed by a singular groan.

“Would you all like this to be the last time I compliment any of you?”

The sound of every paw bar one going down filled the room.

…

“-Yes, Wilde…”

The fox looked at him in complete sincerity and spoke. “I’d just like you to know sir that professional help is available.”

…

“I don’t know if that is snark or genuine concern, but I don’t care. Dismissed.”

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Bogo groaned as his phone rang, bringing it up to his ear. “Now what?”

“THAT WAS A START. NEXT, YOU WILL GO TO THE DISPATCH DESK AND ENGAGE IN CONVERSATION WITH OFFICER BENJAMIN CLAWHAUSER ABOUT YOUR FAVOURITE MUSICIAN.”

The sound of a phone hanging up and teeth grinding filled the room as he made his way over to the cheetah officer. He looked around, seeing not too many mammals in close proximity, before nudging up and whispering.

“Do you want to go up to my office and talk about Gazelle?”

“SSQQUUUUEEEEEEEEEEE…. OH-EM-GOODNESS! WOULD I?”

“I take that as a yes,” he groaned, looking around. “Come on, and quietly.”

He paused as his phone rang, bringing it up to his ear. “You didn’t say where the talk would take place…”

“Uh, Chief?” Clawhauser began.

“I see…” he grunted, sitting down again. “Let’s make this brief.”

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**_(1 hour later)_ **

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“But I’m telling you. She Wolf is her best song! Yes, it might be a bit ritzy and disco inspired, and to some fans who are in for her vocals it does lack in some of the truly fantastic harmonies that she can do. But it was a homage to her experiences and friendship with various Lupine musicians and assistants. She wanted to embrace the happiness, the fun, and yet the subdued power of those wolves, and give them a fun song they could dance to after a few drinks. Yes, she had to tone down the howls, but every song played on public radio has to do that. Heck, accidentally setting wolves off was what got  _ ‘Royals’ _ by Lorde temporarily recalled. Maybe her best song doesn’t have to be a city healing giant like  _ ‘Try Everything _ , maybe instead the short fun stuff exemplifies her creativity and playfulness the best…”

“I still think  _ Try Everything _ is her best piece Chief.”

“Tchhh…” he noted, before looking up and pausing as he saw the crowd surrounding him. “Move along,” he ordered, as he backed up to his office, staring them all down and off as he went. As he did so, his phone rang.

“Was that enough!?” he grumbled.

“YES. YOU EXCEEDED ALL EXPECTATIONS.”

“AND YOU WILL REGRET EVER PULLING THIS ON ME!”

“WHY? YOU’VE ENJOYED IT SO FAR.”

“That is beside the point,” he hissed. “You’ve been wasting my time.”

“WHAT IF IT HAD A CONSTRUCTIVE PURPOSE?”

“And how would it have that?”

“BROADENING AND EDUCATING YOUR MIND.”

“I find that unlikely,” he snapped.

“CONSIDER THIS. IF YOU AGREE THAT THIS BLACKMAILING HAS EDUCATED YOU, WILL YOU WAIVE ALL DISCIPLINARY ACTION AGAINST THOSE INVOLVED?”

He could almost feel his teeth about to crack. “You have  _ got _ to be joking.”

“CERTAINLY NOT. IN ANY CASE. CONSIDER THE EMBARRASSMENT OF TRYING TO EXPLAIN THIS IN THE PAPERWORK. WHICH WOULD THEN BE READ BY WILDE.”

“You evidently don’t know my fox.” 

“WE KNOW YOUR BUNNY, WHO WILL TELL YOUR FOX.”

“…Dammit, okay, you win,” Bogo groaned. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

“OH, THAT WAS EASY… -QUIET, YOU’RE RUINING THE EFFECT…. -OOOPS, SORRY…. -HANG ON… -RIGHT THEN… -WOULD YOU ACCEPT THAT YOU’VE BEEN BLACKMAILED?”

“Yes, you blackmailed me,” Bogo grumbled, as he entered his office, immediately jolting and slamming his door behind him. He looked at his desk, then back at the phone. “WHY IS THERE A GAZELLE BODY PILLOW ON MY CHAIR!”

“SORRY. THAT WAS FOR THE NEXT PHASE. IT’S SURPLUS TO REQUIREMENTS NOW. EITHER WAY, YOU CAN KEEP IT IF YOU WISH.”

The Chief scowled. “I won’t humour that with a response.”

“REGARDLESS. YOU STATED YESTERDAY THAT A CERTAIN SUBSET OF MAMMALS COULD NEVER BLACKMAIL YOU AND, IF THEY COULD, YOU’D BE HAPPY WITH TWO OF YOUR EMPLOYEES PURSUING THEIR LEADS WHEREVER THEY WENT. IS THAT NOT CORRECT?”

“Detectives Dawson,” Bogo began, his nostrils flaring. “The only reason I’m not mailing you back to Little Rodentia by slingshot is that I’m a mammal of my word, and I don’t know where you are. Consider yourself correct, but consider yourselves on thin enough ice to crack under your own diminutive weight. Do you understand?”

There was a pause, before the natural voices of the two rodents spoke out. “Yes, Sir.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” he said, hanging up the phone and putting it down. He sighed and grunted, before shaking his head. He should have asked what part Wilde had in this, given that the fox had to have a paw in it somewhere. Maybe he was the one who delivered the pillow?

Speaking of such, he had to do something about it.

Sure, it was the Angel with Horns looking radiant, as if she was in one of her own performances. Had it been on a poster, he’d have felt just about confident enough to have it in his own home. Maybe on the inside of a safe?

But a pillow had plenty of negative connotations, and being in the ZPD… He sighed, moving up to it and turning the pillow case inside out. Maybe he could blank it out for now, then secretly present it as a birthday gift to Clawhauser.

He quickly got it off, turned it inside out, and put it back on, then bothering to look.

“-OH GOD! THAT’S WORSE!!!!”

Before he could work out a way to deal with what was on the inside, the crack of his door being broken in to rang out, and the Cape buffalo froze.

He then, slowly, turned around, spotting a familiar female cheetah, bunny, and, worst of all, fox, just standing there.

“Help still available,” the vulpine said. “In fact, I could pass you on to my thera…”

“-Can it, Wilde! Why are you three here?”

Judy stepped forwards. “We were waiting for a confirmation of our duties. Catano said you were thinking about something, but neither you or the detectives were around to give us a sign off. Also, we’re concerned for you…”

“Why would that be?”

“Well, you have been  _ off _ this morning.”

“Also, that,” Nick said, pointing at the pillow. The Chief was certain he was beginning to move into a flirty pose, ready to tease, when Judy gave him a ribbing and a stern look, cutting him off.

“Yeah,” Catano added, Bogo noting that the cheetah had her eyes covered and was flinching away. “ _ That… _ ”

“Which, along with my behaviour this morning, was the result of our two rodents,” the Chief scowled.

“What!” the cheetah exclaimed.

“Yes, I know…”

“-You really think I’m going to buy that?” she interrupted. “I… -You do realise that’s a real person, there, on that pillow?”

“The mice put it…”

“Really?” she asked, pressing. “When and how did the mice do that!”

The Chief groaned, resting his head in his two hooves. “They can explain it when they get here.”

“I’ll be looking forward to that,” she stated, as the Chief got out his phone.

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“-And so, we needed to prove this to him. After Wilde…”

“-Knew it!”

“-Talked about how he liked to make those who looked down on him eat their own words, and just to be clear he knew nothing about this,” Basil explained. “We remembered that the Chief said that he’d let us go gallivanting off together if we proved that rodents could blackmail him. So, we did just that, sneaking up on him through the wall and floor spaces, finding about his love of Gazelle. We then had some harmless fun with it the next day, proving our point and, we do have this on recording, saying that we wouldn’t face action for it.”

“Though you are a fox’s whisker away from trouble,” Bogo warned, as Nick subconsciously checked to see if he hadn’t clipped his recently.

“I’m sorry,” Catano said, looking up to Bogo. She then looked down at the mice. “I’m… I’m not sure what I am…”

“Disappointed?” Basil asked.

“No.”

“Angry?” Dave pondered.

“Getting there.”

“I think it was brilliant,” Nick said, giving the rodents a wink.

“But there would have been however many better ways to do it!” Catano scowled.

“Considering he didn’t intend to listen, can you name some?” Basil asked.

“I….” she began, pausing to think. “If this Rattigan did exist, surely there’d be files on him from other law law enforcement agencies? Witnesses? Mammals who could testify…?”

There was a pause, as the mice looked at each other. “Well yes, there are the classified Interpol files…” Dave began. “She does have us there…”

“But it could have taken too long, and it wasn’t his existence that the Chief was having trouble with,” Basil countered. “Look, the Chief now accepts the rodents can blackmail and command much larger mammals into doing their bidding. We’ve got what we needed in less than twenty-four hours.”

“Beats Carrot’s personal record,” Nick added.

“Yes, you’ve got Bogo giving you freer reign after humiliating him,” she said. “To be fair, I respect him being a mammal of his word, I might not have been able to keep that after something like this… I hope I would. -But if you’d have done it my way, you’d have still got there in the end, without messing with people.”

“-Regardless of that, if you needed help chasing them down, I’d have been happy to help,” Judy said. “I believe you.”

“So, do I,” Nick said, stepping forwards. “If you’d have mentioned Rattigan to me, I’d have backed you up.”

A pause filled the room, all eyes turning to him.

“You know about him?” Bogo asked.

“Only by reputation,” Nick explained. “I used to hear small mammals, mainly rodents, mention his name here and there. Others saying that he was ordering them about, others about ‘Felicity taking someone who dared call him a rat’. I heard about a Felicity a few times, a Fidgit once, but I didn’t know the context. I just knew it was bad. And then, he vanished.”

…

“Right,” the Chief announced, groaning. “So, we’ve got two Detectives who are now no longer respected by me and their main assisting officer. We also might have a ‘Rattigan’ back in our city somewhere, returned after his long exile.”

“Right,” Nick began, before turning to the mice. “Where did he go, in the end?”

Basil stepped forwards. “Our last clue on his whereabouts were some enquiries into flying to Yerevyeen, but the trail dies after that. That was over ten years ago.”

“Where’s that?” Judy asked.

“Capital of Armyeenia,” he said. “Interestingly, they have hardly any hyenid’s there, the ‘yeen’ bit is totally unrelated to English whatsoever.

“Former Soeviet Union…” Nick noted. “Why is it ringing such a bell. Why…”

“It’s ringing a bell with me, too,” Judy said. “But Why? Something with rode… -Oh…”

“Yes?” Basil asked.

She looked up, her ears drooping behind her. “You think that someone in Big’s organisation set him up to fall, correct?”

“Correct.”

“What about Kozlov?” she asked sadly. “His right paw mammal?”

Basil blinked. “The one who then flew off to the Ewekraine to see a friend right after!” he exclaimed. “Oh, it makes sense now! It’s all elementary, Dave! This polar bear gets a better offer from Rattigan, who’s been hanging about it the former Union for who knows how long. He’s seen the nighthowlers hit Zootopia and wants to return to the city. So, he has the bear collapse Big’s empire from within, and then he goes back there to pick him up! Rattigan returns and takes over!”

“He said he’d be in Slav-vulpine or wherever for a month or so,” Judy explained. “He really didn’t seem like he enjoyed what had happened to Big though, and said stuff about outside forces hurting Fru-Fru. I don’t want to think he betrayed him, but thanks to a certain Ewe I know not to trust kind words and such. He was talking about failure before, and gave me an heirloom to look after. -It’s still at my place.”

The Chief nodded, stepping up to her.

“Can you confirm that he’s still out there.”

“He’s not due to fly back yet,” she said. “If you hurry, you might be able to catch him.”

The Chief nodded, before turning to the detectives. “I can use five of your holiday days and let you go on your own investigation out there next week. We’ll cover travel expenses.”

Basil and Dave blinked, looking at him. “That’s certainly generous,” the former began. “But a rodent carrying airship would take two to three days for just one Atlantic crossing.”

“Airship?” the Chief asked, smiling. “This is much too urgent for such a slow form of transport, far too expensive too. We could have you across there by this time tomorrow by booking a cheap rodent seat on a jet.”

“Oh,” Basil agreed. “Theoretically yes. But there’s a reason, besides the small size, that rodent plane tickets are so cheap.”

“Uh, Basil…” Dave began.

“-You see, a tiny little bump to you is a rollercoaster to us…”

“-Um, Basil?”

“And a normal flight is quite a frightening affair. We have to wear five-point harnesses…”

“Basil?”

“It’s bad enough for short hops, but across a continent and then an ocean, there’s a reason very small mammals tend to use airships.”

The Chief smiled. “I know that.”

“Oh,” Basil said, Dave nudging up to him.

“I believe our Chief is insisting on this, too  _ -ehhh _ , as you put it… ‘Get his own back’ on us.”

“Yes. I see that now.”

The Chief clapped his hooves together. “You two should better get packing,” he said. “Given that you won’t want to eat given what’s coming, that gives you plenty of time to prepare.”

“Yes…” Basil noted.

“It does,” Dave added.

Chief Bogo smiled, this was a good moment. It was just a shame that Wilde, a smug grin growing on his face, was about to ruin it.

“May I say Chief, welcome to the dark side.”

He chuckled. This had been a very strange day, and to top it off Wilde had just made a moment even better.

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**AN: So, it seems the mice (sort of) get what they want, and Bogo gets his own back. Next chapter, we have lots of characters going to a baby shower hosted by Mr Fox. To quote a bobcat who I have no plans of including in my crossover, ‘what could possibly go wrong?’**

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_ Kyiv airport. Ewekraine. Twenty hours later. _

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“ARGGHHHHH…”

“Ahhhhhhh….”

“ARGHHHHH….”

“Ah-ah-ahhhhhhh….”  _ THUNK… _

“Dave! What’s happened, the world’s still spinning…”

“Mine is too, even though I’m lying on the floor.”

“Where on the -AHHHHH!!!!!”

“You just tripped over me!”

“So… So I did…”

“Are you okay?”

“No, but that wasn’t the trip’s fault.”

“Same here,” Dave groaned. He slowly got onto all fours and, leaning onto a wall, steadied himself. “I… I… -Have you ever been to a paint shop, and seen those shaking devices they use to mix the paint?”

“I… I can finish that sentence by saying I feel the same,” Basil whined, getting up to. “Parts of me are aching that I didn’t know exist before… But… But we’re here now.”

“We can spend the night in a hotel and recover, then go up and try to find these guys and stop them.”

“I do hope they’re up to evil,” Basil added. “I don’t want this to be a waste of our time.”

“Waste of our time!” Dave said. “I don’t want that trip to be in vain.” He then paused and gulped. “Or the return one.”

“Return…?” Basil began, before sinking to his knees, clutching his head and screaming.

“Maybe Rattigan’s going back by airship, or regular ship, and we can use that as an excuse to hitch a ride there,” he said, before groaning as a new ache came up.

“Yes. Let’s go and stop this evil, once and for all,” Basil said, before collapsing onto the floor again.

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_ 200km to the North. _

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An elderly sow was walking along the tree lined street of the Yerevyeen quarter, past the blooming trees and verdant bushes. On her left were the apartment blocks that made up most of her town and, on the right, the kind of homestead house that she always preferred. Two stories, plastered and painted white and yellow, and with a walled garden that was filled with crops or chickens depending on the species of the resident. Letting herself in, she paused as she heard arguing coming from inside, both mammals angrily yammering at each other in Russian.

_ “I am telling you Kozlov, this is the optimal frequency!!!! We have it! It must be the same one that she used!” _

_ “But the speed is still too slow. I saw it on that night. It was fast. Faster than we ever achieved before!” _

“ _ Well then maybe when you go back to your city, build it and scale it up to full size, we’ll hit the speed she did! _ ”

“ _ But she managed with tiny…” _

_ “Pah! We don’t get perfection! Why the fuck are you complaining if you can’t hold it? What the fuck do you think a truck is for? We both know I don’t know how to fucking recreate what the other warrior was using to fly around, but from the second time you know that good old fucking heavy weaponry works!” _

_ “I know it fucking does Jorin! But how do we know if this doesn’t work? If it really is true, if there really is no justice, if these people were not avenged, if Sizogo Orla is truly coming back, then I want to know we fucking can win!!!” _

_ “SO DO I COMRADE!”  _ There was a pause, the sow outside deciding that she might as well knock.

_ “Maybe if you tweak. Here, let me…” _

She knocked, before flinching back as a muffled  _ poof _ sounded out from inside. There was the sound of some loud braying, and angry ‘ _ Fuck-you’s’ _ , before a table ground across the floor. “ _ Jorin. Mind killing that mammal?” _

Waiting a few seconds, she watched as the door opened and an aged mammal, about the size of a wolf, stepped out. The olive furred, hunched back Syrian wild ass, his fur greying, pulled off his goggles and looked at her.

“ _ Mister Jorin,”  _ she said. “ _ I bring Perogi and Varenyky.” _

He nodded, then turned back. “ _ Hey, idiot! It is Babushka with the food _ .”

A massive polar bear walked up behind him, his face covered in ash. “ _ Maybe not kill her yet _ .  _ I’ll get out the wine.” _


End file.
